Bobby's Girl
by kodachromekiss
Summary: What caused Bobby to go to the dark side?


**Bobby's Girl**

Bobby had been waiting on Dave for the past half hour. He was supposed to be back within a few minutes with more supplies, but something obviously had gone wrong. Bobby didn't want to think what would happen to them if they screwed up this mission. He double checked his gear as he adjusted his hunter's cap. Ammo. Check. HK SP89. Loaded. Check. Bobby finished his stale beer and crushed the can. He tried to throw it at the garbage can to make a basket. He missed. "Man," he said shaking his head. Bobby wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Where the hell was Dave?

Lying down on the hard motel room bed, Bobby took another look at his Batman comic book. He had read this thing at least five times. When was he going to get some more? Maybe when he got to Copperfield, he figured. Wasn't the Judge supposed to be coming through there soon? He was bored out of his mind. Bobby had gone from being agitated to sleepy. He tried to close his thoughts on this assignment, how he and his friend had joined up with The Walking Dude. Life had not always been like this, sitting around waiting for the next hit. As he drifted in to a nap, his thoughts drifted back in time to Marcy and their last day together. As he began to dream, he slipped into an odd state of lucidity. Bobby remembered all of the details, but now, it was almost like he was floating above the room, as an observer. He could even hear her thoughts. Bobby watched himself and his girlfriend, as if he was viewing a movie, only this now took on the female lead character's perspective.

Bobby sat on a foot stool at the edge of her bed, as she was propped up on pillows, dark circles under puffy eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked, gently pushing her long dark bangs to the sides of her face so he could get a better look.

Marcy nodded. She lied. Her wheezing chest sounded louder, more congested than last night.

Bobby pulled Marcy to him, holding her close. "Look, I'm calling Richard to tell him that I'm not going to work tonight..."

"No, no," Marcy pleaded. "You can't do that! Do you know how much trouble that's going to cause you with the other boys?" She protested in a soft voice in which she seemed to struggle with over her wheezing as she coughed.

Bobby patted Marcy's hand gently. "No, it won't." He rubbed his left hand gently up and down on her arm. "You know Rich. He's cool. The other fellows will be fine with it too. All I have to do is explain the situation."

"But, the last thing they are going to want to hear is that you were playing nurse for your girlfriend!" Marcy turned her head away and let go a long miserable cough into her right fist.

"Baby, you're so ill. You need someone with you. What if you have to go to the hospital?" Bobby took down the Kleenex box from the night stand and handed a tissue to Marcy before taking her tiny hand in both of his again. Her hand was so cold, he thought to himself. He wondered when the fever would break. "Listen, all of the times you have taken care of me. This is the least I can do. I know you really need my help right now. I've never seen you like this."

"But..." Marcy's blue eyes were pleading with him for help beneath the protests.

"I will accept no other answer," Bobby said, kissing her forehead.

Marcy nodded in thanks as she took the tissue and continued. "But I'm not that bad-" She hacked a long cough into the Kleenex bundled in her hand which shook her entire body. Bobby noticed the cold was deeper in her chest. What if it wasn't just bronchitis or the flu, but pneumonia?

"What if that medicine doesn't work and you have another asthma attack? Certainly your doctor's going to want you to come in and be seen again..."

Marcy sighed as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm a burden to you, Bobby. Oh, how I feel like I'm wrecking your life, wrecking everything. Another missed night of work because of me? Really, honey. I'll be fine, really. If I need anything, I can always give Mom a call..." Inside, though, Marcy was aching for Bobby to stay with her. She felt terribly depressed and helpless inside. She wanted him to stay with her, to help take care of her; she felt so vulnerable, so pathetic inside. Her arms, her legs, her entire body ached. The pain in her back had worsened with all of the wretched coughing she had been doing. Her head throbbed from all of the congestion. More tears were forming in her blue eyes now. As she started to weep, she stared pleadingly into Bobby's kind, puppy dog brown eyes. He leaned forward to kiss her furrowed brow.

"What if your mom's not home when you call, baby?" Bobby asked. He raised his eyebrows and just gazed deeply at her, searching her eyes for the truth. "Can you honestly sit there and tell me you don't want me to stay with you here tonight?"

Marcy thought about this for a minute herself, as if really searching her feelings for the answer. Her head was spinning. Of course she wanted him to stay, and she certainly didn't want one of her family members over here when she was sick. She wanted to be here, tonight, with the man she loved. Just Bobby's presence had a soothing affect on her state of mind. "Okay." Marcy said at last, leaning forward as Bobby took her into his arms for a long, warm hug. "Please stay with me, then, honey. It would mean so much to me..." Her tears wet his grey sweatshirt as they fell.

Bobby was kneeling beside her bed, holding her tightly. "I'm going to take good care of you, baby. You're going to be safe here with me."

"Thank you, Bobby. I love you so much."

"It's my pleasure. And, baby, you know how much I love you..." Bobby kissed Marcy on her warm, sweaty forehead as he stood. He made a motion for Marcy to lean forward to fluff her pillows underneath her, to help her prop herself forward. "Isn't that better?"

Marcy nodded and smiled through her tears. Bobby grabbed a tissue and blotted her leaking eyes softly.

"You wait here. I'll be right back." He pointed with his index finger to indicate how quickly he would be away from her. Marcy watched as Bobby carried the Vicks Humidifier to the adjacent bathroom. He filled the appliance with cold water and returned in a flash. "See? I told you that I wouldn't be gone long..." He sat the humidifier back on the nightstand.

Marcy smiled as she watched Bobby bend over to plug the cord into a socket. Suddenly she felt dizzy. Was it her cold or was it the temperature in the room all of a sudden? Another cough came on suddenly.

"There we go!" Bobby said popping his head back up. The cool vapor was making a soft misting sound as the little motor inside the vessel hummed. Somehow she had always loved that sound. She was lost in thought as she watched the mist work to cool down and humidify the room. Bobby kissed her forehead again. He pulled the covers up around her frail body and tucked them around her legs. "Are the blankets too much?"

Marcy shook her head. "They're nice. Thank you." They exchanged a lingering smile.

"When was the last time you checked your temperature?"

Marcy wrinkled her brow and frowned. She couldn't honestly remember.

"Well, then. Let's check it again." Bobby was back in the bathroom medicine scurrying around, looking for the thermometer before Marcy could answer. He was shaking it like a real professional as he approached the bed once more. Bobby opened his mouth and said, "Ah," Marcy understood and followed his instructions as Bobby placed the thermometer under her tongue. "Don't bite."

Marcy half smiled sweetly as she closed her lips around the glass device.

"And we wait three minutes..." Bobby lifted his watch to set the little digital timer on the side. It beeped. "Now we wait." He pulled up his little foot stool and sat down at Marcy's bedside.

Bobby was a lot better as a nurse than any of the real nurses she had ever dealt with, she noticed. He just crossed his legs and leaned forward to take her hand in his. Her palm still felt so wet and clammy. He caressed her knuckles softly with his long, thin fingers. Marcy looked down to study his hands, his fingertips, and she noticed his neatly trimmed fingernails. His fingertips were rough and his touch was soothing. She was getting sleepy sitting there as he massaged her hand. Marcy's eyes started to droop a little bit; and she jerked herself back awake as her chin had just touched her chest.

As if by instinct, Bobby removed the thermometer from her mouth to check it. "That's time enough I think," he said. Bobby's lips emitted a high to low pitched whistle. "100.2, it's still a fever alright. Do you prefer aspirin or Tylenol, baby?"

"Whatever's in there right now..." Marcy felt badly that she was so aloof this afternoon. She honestly couldn't even remember what medicines she had around the place.

Bobby disappeared to the bathroom again and shuffled around in the medicine cabinet, returning with a half bottle of store-brand aspirin and a brand new green bottle of Nyquil. "If this don't work we're going to have to give you a sponge bath, you know that don't you, Ms. Larson?" He flared his nostrils and screwed up his face in a mad way, which made Marcy laugh.

"Do you promise?" She smiled. "Well then, Bobby Terry. Maybe we should skip the aspirin then..."

Bobby winked. "As much as I'd enjoy that, I know you probably shouldn't in your condition. Let's save that for when you're feeling a little better. Okay, baby?"

"Okay," Marcy exaggerated a sigh, pretending to act disappointed. As much as she loved the idea of Bobby's hands all over her with a damp sponge; she realized he was correct in that she was much too fuzzy headed to get much out of it.

Bobby handed Marcy her glass of water to take the medicine and placed the pills on her tongue for her. He replaced the water glass on the bedside table and then spoon fed the cough syrup to her. Marcy made a funny face as the licorice flavor met her tongue. She licked her lips. Bobby smiled and kissed her forehead again."That's a good little patient." He pulled the covers back up over her, even covering her hands this time, once more making sure they were tucked, but not too tightly.

Marcy fell asleep with Bobby sitting there beside her.

A couple of hours later, Marcy awoke to find Bobby still sitting there on that little stool reading a Spider-Man comic book. He looked up for her sleepy eyes to meet his. "How are you feeling?" Bobby asked.

"Actually, a lot better." Marcy stretched. She felt Bobby's hand on her forehead.

"No more fever. That's such a relief." They smiled at each other sweetly. Marcy noticed how big and beautiful Bobby's brown eyes were.

"What issue are you reading?"

"Issue 47."

"Oh, Kraven the Hunter. That's a good one!"

"Oh, it is, baby. I love re-reading these, you know."

"Oh, yes. Me too. That's where Harry introduces Peter to his dad, right, and nobody except Pete knows he and Norman already have a history as Spidey and Gobby..." She smiled.

Bobby laughed a crazy man's laugh through his teeth. This made Marcy giggle and she started to cough again. "Ah, too much of a good thing, baby," Bobby said, handing her a tissue.

Marcy appeared to stop for a second then it started right after she took the Kleenex. She turned her head, and the cough got rougher and rougher. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no need to apologize. You can't help it. You need to cough to get that junk out of your lungs. Let it out..." Bobby marked his spot in his comic book with a finger and held it in one hand as he leaned forward to rub Marcy's back with his other.

Marcy felt Bobby's warm hand caressing between her shoulder blades as he worked in circles up and down her back. After it seemed her coughing spell had ended, Bobby leaned forward to help fluff the pillows again. "Is that better?" His voice sounded so kind and beautiful, and it always caused Marcy to swoon. Marcy nodded. She leaned back into the pillows and smiled. She flashed her pretty blue eyes at Bobby sweetly, and he winked at her in response. "Would you like for me to read to you for a bit?"

"Oh, Bobby, I would like that a lot," Marcy smiled. "I would like that quite a lot actually."

"Good. Do you want me to read from the beginning?"

"Sure, if you don't mind. It's you that's reading after all."

"Very well, then. Hmm. 'Worry not, Frantic One...'" Bobby began to read Stan Lee's intro to the comic. Marcy settled in to listen as he read as if he were a kindergarten teacher, paying close attention to his dialects. Bobby enthusiastically gave different voices to the characters, showing Marcy the pictures as he read. By the time he got to the action sequences, he was giving voice to the sound effects, as if she was watching a movie. The pains in her head and chest and back were seemingly subsiding as she listened to him softly reading over the hum of the humidifier at her bedside.

On and on, Bobby read. The dialog and sound effects flowed from his lips easily. Bobby did not stop until the story was done. He only paused long enough to get himself a drink of water, or to offer Marcy one. He sometimes stopped to make sure she was comfortable. He seemed at ease with himself, even brimming with confidence. Who would have thought? She surmised. Normally shy, Bobby came alive, as if in another world, when he was reading the comic books. She remembered their first conversation when he finally got the courage to talk to her in study hall that day, so many years before... Bobby stammered a little until he noticed the Batgirl comic book that she was reading. She had to smile. Bobby was such a sweet heart. Here he was tending to her every need, making sure she was taken care of, and even reading to her. What more did a girl need? "Do you want me to read it again?" Bobby asked.

"I'd love that, as long as you don't mind reading it a second time." Marcy could have listened to him read all night.

"I don't mind," he said, smiling, as he shifted in his seat to begin again.

Marcy fell into unconsciousness again sometime during the second read-through. She awoke and the whole room was dark. She flipped on her lamp. She guessed Bobby had stopped reading out loud when he saw this and had helped himself to the bigger more comfortable chair by the window. The humidifier was still humming along producing that cool mist. She loved to put her face over it and inhale, and she did just that as she caught sight of Bobby curled up in the chair, still clenching his comic book. She got up and took one of the unused blankets that he had folded at the foot of her bed and draped it over him, tucking it around his shoulders. She kissed his forehead and smiled. Bobby looked so beautiful in sleep. His eyelashes were so long. Marcy could not resist caressing along the side of his head over his ear. His dark curls were soft against her fingertips. "Good night, honey." She said, wondering if he was dreaming deeply and if he would even hear the words...

Bobby could hear her. He heard her then. He could hear her now. Marcy had taken a drink of water and climbed into bed and was soon falling into a peaceful sleep. Bobby felt unease now. He remembered how much relief he felt at the time, that Marcy's breathing had sounded so much clearer, so much quieter. What no one knew then, was that it was an indicator that the end was near. Captain Trips, as the super flu epidemic was now being called, had a cruel way of tricking the victims, and the people who cared about them, that the patients had turned the dark corner for the better. While the patient looked and felt healthy for a short period of time, he or she would be dead within hours. Bobby's dream now was beginning to affect him. He was watching Marcy sitting up in bed, smiling and laughing, looking so beautiful, like Jennifer Jones in Portrait of Jennie. But, he knew she was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was starting to cry out loud in his sleep.

Bobby felt himself begin shaken awake, and the person doing the shaking was shouting at him furiously. "Wake up!" Dave had returned and was shaking Bobby viciously. "What the hell are you doing? You shouldn't be asleep! What if Henreid calls on the radio, you sausage brain!?"

Feeling like a scolded child, Bobby tried explaining that he could hear the radio fine, and that no one had radioed in yet from base. He wiped the tears from his eyes. The last thing he would need to do was show Dave he was crying. Marcy, he remembered, shaking his head. She would not want him doing any of this. She would have him following Mother Abigail, like the rest of their friends. But Marcy was gone now, so none of that mattered. As far as he was concerned, life itself didn't matter without Marcy. The sooner he got this over with, the better. One more mission, he figured. If this went over well, maybe The Walking Dude would reward them. Bobby and Dave might even get a place in Vegas. If it didn't work out, well, he didn't want to think of that. Not now...


End file.
